


Mutual Flame

by Greenlady



Series: Mutual Flame [1]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-19
Updated: 2010-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Greenlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark Kent is alien -- and has a Destiny.  That may be a dangerous thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutual Flame

Mutual Flame

 

Prologue: Born of Fire.  
*******************

The golden sarcophagus gleamed in the light of a hundred torches.

(The torches were an affectation, but affectations amused him.)

'You are certain it's genuine, Dr. Summerbell?'

'Ninety-nine percent certain, Mr. Luthor.'

'Only ninety-nine percent certain?'

'No one may be one hundred percent certain of anything, save perhaps God.'

'Point taken…. Well, let's open it and see what's inside, shall we?'

'Open it! Mr. Luthor, that would be a sacrilege…. No, no, not for religious reasons I do assure you, but for scientific reasons. This… this dungeon is not a suitable environment. Such a remarkable find must be opened only under the most stringent of conditions, after first alerting the archaeological community, and garnering the best advice from the most qualified specialists.'

'I thought you might say that,' sighed Lionel Luthor.

'Of course I would say that,' Dr. Summerbell protested. 'You hired me to give you the benefit of my professionalism, and I have done so.'

'And you have done so, but… could nothing persuade you to make an exception in this instance?'

'I am afraid not, and if you persist in asking such a thing of me, I must consider our association to be terminated.'

'Very well, Dr. Summerbell. Our association is at an end.'

'I am leaving now, to lodge a complaint with the proper authorities. I consider myself culpable in this crime, but perhaps a full confession will persuade them to be lenient with me.'

'I'm sure it would, Doctor.'

The archaeologist took an earnest step toward his erstwhile employer. 'This is indeed a most remarkable find,' he said again. 'Our fame would be assured for all time. If we were to say we found it by accident, few would doubt us, at least openly. I do hope you will reconsider.'

Lionel Luthor looked down at the dungeon floor, and frowned. Then, he looked up and smiled. 'I have reconsidered, Doctor, and I find that I am of the same mind still. I have plans for this sarcophagus, and its contents, you see. Plans that do not include the archaeological community. Plans that no longer concern you.'

The archaeologist sighed. 'Very well,' he said. 'I must be on my way.'

'Yes,' said Lionel. 'Please be on your way.' Fire flashed from his hand. A hole appeared in the very centre of the archaeologist's head, and a surprised expression upon what was left of his face. He fell to the floor, and lay quite still.

'I have plans, Doctor,' Lionel said again, with a peculiar emphasis, as though now the archaeologist must see his point, and acknowledge its primacy, if he did not done so before. 'Fame -- at least fame of the academic sort -- is not among them. Fame of another sort, yes. But you would not understand that sort of fame. And now I have your body to dispose of.'

The torchlight flickered. Something black, with a long black tail, skittered along the wall. This ancient dungeon had for many dire ages been a disposal facility for inconvenient dead bodies. Lionel searched for and found a room of gnawed bones, and tossed the doctor's corpse among them. Soon, no one would be able to tell at a glance which bones were the doctor's and which were his long-dead predecessor's.

The floor in front of the sarcophagus was stained with blood, but blood would not offend its occupant if half the stories about him were true. Lionel nodded toward the Presence within the tomb. 'Well, now we are alone,' he said. 'I will bring no other inferior beings before you, for they would not understand us. We must manage ourselves.'

It would not be easy lifting the lid of the sarcophagus alone, but Lionel Luthor was always prepared to act alone. It had not really been a surprise to him, when Dr. Summerbell reneged on their agreement. The seal cracked open, the winch turned, the cover lifted enough for him to slide it from its base. He pushed, using every scrap of his considerable power. The cover slid back far enough for him to look inside.

The face, in all its calm, regal beauty, looked back at him with blind eyes. He had been dead for over two thousand years, but the embalmers had done their work well. He lay there, in more peace than he had ever known in his short life. Waiting. Waiting to be reborn, thought Lionel.

'Not yet,' he said. 'Not quite yet. But soon.' He carefully slid the cover back into place. There were a few more preparations to make. But now he knew. One look, and he had known. One hundred percent certain, as only a god could be.

 

Two Days Later:  
*************

 

It was midnight, the very time and date that all the auguries, both scientific and mystical, had pointed toward as the most auspicious. Torches flamed against blackened stone walls. Incense wafted in great waves through musty air. Braziers had burned constantly through the last few days, to keep the cold from affecting the mummy. The body had survived more than two thousand years buried in the sand near Siwah, but who knew what the cold damp conditions of this dungeon might do to it.

Soon enough, the cold would matter nothing.

'Come, Lillian,' Lionel commanded.

Lillian Luthor stepped out of the passageway, into the light of the torches. She was naked. Her long hair flowed down her back. She moved gracefully, as though wafting a foot above the ground. Her eyes were dark, the pupils dilated..

'Lie down upon the altar,' Lionel commanded.

Lillian climbed up the steps, to the top of the altar, and sank to the stone top. She lay still. Her eyes gazed up toward the ceiling, blank and sightless.

Lionel cranked open the sarcophagus once more. The mummified body looked unchanged. Perhaps the skin of the face had darkened a little, or perhaps that was only shadows cast by the waves of incense.

Lionel began to chant, summoning his powers. Torches flared, the flames bending toward him, trying to bridge the distance. A spark ignited in his hand, and he held it for a moment, breathing more life into it. Then, he let it drop.

The body, preserved by ancient spices and myrrh, dried out by millennia in the desert of Siwah, burst into flame like a torch. Like a man-shaped torch it burned. The dried flesh burst, the bones creaked and cracked. Smoke rose from the body, smelling of myrrh. Lionel breathed in the smoke, bathed in it, dipped his hands in it, and poured the smoke over his naked body.

Then, he turned toward his wife, lying on the altar insensible and incognizant.

She fought him, at the end, as the shock broke through the effects of the drug. She had been a virgin, kept chaste for this purpose, and his touch was not that of a lover, but of a conqueror. The fight, violent but short, with a preordained resolution, made his victory even sweeter.

 

************************************************************************************

 

Chapter One: Fire From Heaven  
**************************

Lex knew his father wasn't happy. He knew it the way he knew the sun was bright and hot. He knew it the way he knew that he himself was thirsty and tired. His father's unhappiness was as inevitable as gravity, and as unyielding as the ground so far below them.

Those thoughts -- of the distance to the ground, coupled with the effects of gravity -- made his stomach lurch once more, and he found himself wishing his imagination were not quite so vivid.

'Lex!' his father snapped. 'You must learn to conquer your own fear. A man who can conquer his own fear, can conquer the world. If he cannot conquer himself, he is not a man.'

Lex felt the Presence inside him awake, and give assenting voice. He closed his eyes even more tightly, trapped between the pressure from outside, and the pressure from within. Only because the two pressures were equal did he manage to keep from exploding or collapsing. His father thought him a weak coward, and so, it appeared, did the Presence. Yet he kept them both from tearing him asunder between them, and had done so all his life.

The Presence was insane, Lex knew. He often doubted his father's sanity as well, but he knew the Presence was insane, the same way he knew his father was unhappy. The Presence spent most of its time asleep and dreaming. At other times would it awake, and scan its near environment with desire. It would demand to make itself known, and to insist upon Lex's obedience to its desire. Lex always refused. He had been created as a vessel for the Presence, but Lex refused to give over command of the vessel to its contents.

'Open your eyes and face your father,' said the Presence. 'Tell him you are as strong as he is, even if you are only a boy.'

That was just it, thought Lex. He wasn't only a boy -- he was a Vessel. A jar. A cup. He had been created to hold the spirit and mind of another living being. He hated and feared that being, because he… it… it knew everything he felt and thought and did, when it was awake. Awake, it knew everything, and thus it knew far too much.

Go back to sleep, thought Lex. There's nothing for you here. Just corn. Fields of corn, miles of corn, as far as the eye could see, nothing but corn. What interest does corn hold for such as you?

The helicopter landed. Lex followed his father out onto the safety of solid ground, to stand amidst the alien corn, to conquer it, and make it their own.

Lionel Luthor was all for conquering the world -- one corn field at a time. A stretch of barren wasteland at a time. A factory here, a town there, and yet another town over there. Another factory. Another stretch of barren wasteland. He had a plan, he informed Lex. A plan, yes. Lionel always had plans.

But no Vision… and whose thought was that? His own, or was it the Presence speaking, commenting when it should be asleep? These days, Lex feared he soon would be unable to know the difference, would be unable to know where he ended and the Presence began.

Men were bowing, acknowledging their new owner. Lionel smiled, nodding back politely. He was usually polite, even when killing people. It seemed he wasn't about to kill anyone yet, and Lex grew bored. Talk of yields and how long a field should lie fallow bored him. He was no farmer. Lionel believed in supervising all his holdings in person, as much as he could, since he trusted no one.

'Everyone will cheat you, Lex,' he said at every opportunity. 'If not right away, then sooner or later. If you aren't there to catch them at it, eventually they will grow careless and reveal themselves -- but by then, you will have lost profits, and your reputation besides.'

The corn fields were more interesting in themselves, than what the adult conversation about them let on. Stalks of corn, taller than a man, row after row, leading off into the distance, to the very edge of the horizon, and then some. He could almost sense the ruminations of a strange, devious, vegetable mind. One could get lost in corn, perhaps never to be found. Lex often wanted to get lost. He had dreams of never again feeling the wrath of his father. Perhaps then he could conquer the Presence that lived inside him, and become himself. Lex Luthor. Himself. Not the son of the rich, powerful Necromancer, Lionel Luthor. Not the Vessel for the Presence. Just Lex. Then he could own his own soul, whatever that was, wherever that was.

His father stalked toward the edge of the field, eyeing the corn, making pronouncements upon its worth and value. His contingent of agents and counsellors and hangers-on followed.

Lex stepped slowly backwards, away from the general consensus, and toward his own path. The corn beckoned, it had its own mind, expressed its own thoughts. Fortunate corn. Strength of roots, leaves, husks. Love of rain and sunlight. Fear of earworms and borers. From the edge of the field, such concerns had seemed amusing and light-hearted compared to his own fears. But now, surrounded by corn, and only corn, Lex felt outnumbered, and lost. He was the alien, not the corn. The corn knew more about the environment of cornfields than did Lex Luthor. The corn had its own undeniable logic. He ran, seeking he knew not what, and suddenly, above him, fire flashed across the sky. Great bursts of fire. From every direction he could hear screams. Over it all, he heard his father calling, 'Lex! Lex!'

His father sounded truly afraid, as if Lex weren't the disappointment he knew himself to be, now that he had gotten himself lost. Lex turned toward the voice, drawn by the magnet of longed-for love, and as he turned, a great globe of fire landed at his feet, and exploded, and he knew nothing but flame. Red flame, black flame. Red flame, black flame. Red, and black, and red and black….

************

'I am sorry, Mistress Kent.'

'No, don't say that,' Martha remonstrated. 'It isn't your fault.'

'It is no one's fault, Mistress Kent.'

'That's not true, Doctor. It is my fault. I am imperfect.'

'And who is perfect? Not I, certainly. You speak of fault, Mistress, where there is none.'

'I cannot have a child, Doctor, and that is a fault. I am sorry to have troubled you. It isn't as if it were news to me. I've consulted many other doctors and midwives, and everyone has told me the same thing. I suppose… I suppose I hoped for a miracle.'

'A miracle? From me? How very touching, Mistress. But I have no miracles. It is the gods who create miracles.'

'And they hand them out very unfairly,' said Martha.

'It seems so to us -- but then we are mere humans, and we don't understand how the universe works. Or why.'

Martha gazed at the doctor. Cassandra was old, white haired, blind. More seer than physician. But Martha was desperate to try anything.

'You were desperate when you came to me, and I understand that,' said Cassandra, gently. 'But desperation only makes our problems worse. I'm sure many people have said this to you, but why not adopt a child, if you wish for one so desperately?'

'Adoption? It… it feels like giving up. Accepting failure.'

'Accepting what must be. Accepting what the Goddess has planned for you. That is not failure. That is Grace.'

'I'll think about it,' said Martha, at last.

'Do think about it, Mistress. I must tell you that often and often when a woman adopts a child, she then feels one quicken in her own womb. It comes of acceptance, of not trying to create a miracle, but accepting the miracle the Goddess gives her.'

'Do you think so?' asked Martha, new hope in her voice.

'I believe it with all my heart,' said Cassandra.

Martha turned to the Goddess Altar, in the tree grove. She bowed her head, trying to feel acceptance in her heart. She wondered if the Goddess could read her heart to its depths, and would feel the anger still brewing there.

'The Goddess knows we are human, and imperfect,' said the doctor, with a smile. 'But she appreciates all gestures, all attempts to try.' Then her face changed, her voice changed. 'Give me your hand, Mistress,' she said.

Martha held out her hand, and the blind woman took it, unerringly. 'Fire from heaven,' she said. 'The dragon wakes. And the world changes.'

'What? What does that mean?' asked Martha.

Cassandra was silent for a moment. 'I'm sorry,' she said, at last. 'Did I say something strange? I had a warning, but I have forgotten it. Be careful, Mistress. That's all I know.'

'You said something about fire, and dragons.'

'There are no more dragons,' said Cassandra. 'They died in chains.'

'You said the world would change.'

'The world is always changing,' said Cassandra. 'Change is nothing to fear. But be careful.'

Martha turned to Jonathan, who was waiting by the gate. He held out his arms, and she ran to them, and rested her head upon his shoulder. He had always been willing to adopt, she knew. She had been the one holding back, longing for a child all their own. Now, she smiled up at him, trying to be brave.

'Let's look into adoption, then,' she said. 'Let us trust the Goddess.'

 

************

 

'There are good things about adoption,' Jonathan was saying. 'Pregnancy and childbirth can't be much fun.'

'Fun?' said Martha. 'Not fun, no. But, it's an important part of life. Women… most women want to experience it.' She was watching the fields speed by, as Jonathan drove the old pickup truck home. Another wasted attempt, she thought. But no, Cassandra was right. It was time for acceptance.

'But we can choose our own baby, this way, instead of just taking what comes,' Jonathan pointed out. 'A little girl, maybe? Blond hair, blue eyes? We'll have everything ready for her, and it will be perfect.'

Martha looked up, and smiled. Not much chance of getting exactly what they wanted. They were poor farmers, not wealthy landowners or necromancers. But Jonathan knew that as well as she did, so no need to say it and spoil the mood.

Acceptance.

Something boomed overhead, a great fireball. It landed in the road ahead of them, and Jonathan couldn't stop the truck in time. They skidded into the fire and smoke, and the truck flipped over. For a moment, Martha blacked out. Only a moment, she thought, as she opened her eyes. I was only unconscious for a moment. Nothing terrible can happen in a moment.

A moment was long enough for her whole world to turn upside down, along with the truck. For, when she opened her eyes again, a sweet little face was looking at her, through the window. A small, naked child. A boy. He smiled at her easily, as if they were playing in a sandbox together. Then -- he picked up the truck in his tiny hands, and turned it upright.

********************

'It must be a Necromancer War,' Jonathan announced.

'What makes you think that,' said Martha, driving the truck with savage concentration.

'Fire from the sky. Explosions. Children with superhuman powers,' Jonathan ticked the evidence off on his fingers.

'A child who hasn't said a word so far,' said Martha. 'Nor has he threatened us in any way. I think he wants nothing to do with the battle, if there is one.'

'He's a Wizard's Child, that's certain. He's powerful.'

'Yes, a Wizard's Child, but innocent, and we must hide his origins, if we're going to keep him,' said Martha.

'Keep him?' asked Jonathan. He looked down at the baby in his arms. Martha had wrapped him in a red blanket. 'You want to keep him?'

'He's ours,' said Martha. 'He found us. He saved us. He's ours. Or we are his.'

'He's dangerous. Not in himself, but if he's a Wizard's Child…'

'The wizard should have taken better care of him.'

'Yes, but….' Jonathan caught a glimpse of his wife's face. Just a glimpse, but he shut his mouth and said no more. He knew that expression. The little Wizard's Child had roused a mother's protective instincts in his Martha, on top of her usual stubborn resolve, so he had lost the battle before it began. They were keeping the Wizard's Child. It was Jonathan's job to find a way to make that possible. A husband's duty was to make his wife's dreams possible.

Up ahead, on the dusty road, stood a man, holding another little boy in his arms. The man was tall, and thin, and dressed in black, and his hair was red. A Necromancer, fresh from the battle. He stood in the path of the truck, and waved his hand.

'Drive on by!' said Jonathan.

'We can't,' said Martha.

'Of course we can,' said Jonathan. 'He's a wizard, he's dangerous. It's the only thing to do.'

'He's a wizard, he's dangerous, he's seen us, and we can't fight him. To drive on by would be suspicious. Smile. Act friendly.' She pulled the truck to a stop, right in front of the Necromancer.

Jonathan took a deep breath, and plastered a friendly smile on his face. 'Good afternoon, sir,' he said. 'Need any help?'

 

*******************

 

Lex was on fire. He wanted to run away, to run off toward the pale blue sky, and find peace, but he was paralysed, and could only sit and burn. Someone spoke to him, a man with red hair -- his father? Lex didn't know. Lex couldn't answer. He could only sit and burn, and watch while the man waved his arms, as if trying to cast a spell that didn't work The man picked him up in his arms and carried him out to the road. The road was dusty, and smelled like ashes, and burning people. The ashes made him cry.

A truck came rumbling toward them, and pulled over. A woman. A man. A child -- a little boy. The child reached out and touched his face, and it was like the touch of rain on his face. Like the touch of falling tears, or falling stars.

Pale blue sky. Peace.

 

**************************************************************************************

 

Chapter Two: Bridge of Sighs  
*************************

 

'Everyone will say I'm a coward!'

'Clark….'

'They will. They'll say I'm a coward. Most of the boys are joining. Even some of the girls. Chloe. Chloe's joining.' Clark couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

'Clark!'

'It's not fair, Dad.'

'You are our only child. We need you on the farm. We got an exemption. No one will say you're a coward. Everyone understands the reasons.'

'I don't. I don't understand at all. We have to fight for independence. That's more important than this stupid farm…. I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean it like that. But I feel trapped here. I want to fight. I'm not weak. I don't want to be exempted.'

'We can't always do what we want, Clark Kent,' said Martha Kent.

'I never get to do what I want. You never let me. I could fight as well as any of the other boys. Better than some.'

'Better than any of them, that's the problem,' Jonathan Kent observed. 'It's dangerous.'

'Dangerous? Dangerous for who? For me, or for the Luthors? I could take them all on.'

'No! You could take them all on, but we're not letting you. Listen, son. If the Luthors saw you, if they saw what you could do… The gods only know what might happen. The Luthors are Necromancers.'

'So what?'

'We never told you where you came from, did we?' asked Martha.

Clark grinned. 'You explained to me about sex,' he said. 'And you told me I was adopted. So, I guess my biological parents had sex, since I'm here, aren't I?'

'Maybe,' said Jonathan.

'Maybe? What are you saying, Dad? That they didn't have sex? That I'm a clone? What?'

'We're not exactly sure. You came with the meteors,' said Martha.

'My biological parents were meteors?' Clark scratched his head, with his best 'adults are idiots' expression.

'You came here, to Smallville, at the same time as the meteors. We thought it was a Necromancer war, but we heard no more about it, so now we're not sure.'

'We thought you were a Wizard's Child,' said Martha. 'You didn't speak. But you cast no spells, and no wizard came after you, to claim you as his own.'

'But you're not an ordinary human,' said Jonathan. 'We found a ship, a space ship, right where the meteors landed. We think you came in that ship.'

Clark looked back and forth between his parents, as they talked. When Jonathan finished, he sat for a moment in silence. 'A ship?' he said, at last. 'With the meteors?'

'A space ship,' said Martha. 'Perhaps you came from another world. Another dimension. We found the ship, and hid it.'

'I'm an Wizard's Child, and I'm a alien?'

'We think so,' she answered.

'Cool,' said Clark. 'I'm an alien Wizard's Child. I'm stronger than normal humans. And you won't let me fight? What's the point of me being so strong, if I can't use it to defend my family, to protect people? Our people. My friends are going to die. Pete. Chloe. Lana, maybe. Maybe you, if the Luthors show up here at the farm.'

'If that happens, we'll let you fight. I promise, Clark.'

'By then it would be too late, Dad.'

'It won't go that far,' said Jonathan.

'How do you know?'

'I know the Luthors,' said his Dad. 'You can't fight them. You can't win. It will all be over sooner than you think.'

'Great! Then I'll really be a coward, won't I? I could help us win, but you won't let me? I'm old enough to do what I want, you know.'

'No!' said Jonathan. 'We have the exemption. They won't let you sign up.'

Clark got to his feet, and stared down at his parents for a moment, in silence. Then, still in silence, he stalked out of the kitchen, got into the truck, and drove to town. He was going to enlist.

 

******************

 

'I'm finally giving you a chance to prove yourself, Lex. Why are you arguing? I thought this is what you wanted.'

'It was. At one time.' Lex Luthor shrugged. 'Now, I couldn't care less.'

'That's too bad, son. But it changes nothing. You're mine to command.'

'I'm over twenty-one. I'm an adult.'

'You're a Luthor. I'm the head of the family. You do as I say.'

'Quelling some stupid peasant rebellion,' said Lex, dreamily. 'Yes. Sounds like fun.'

'I don't really care whether you think it's fun or not,' said Lionel. 'Go quell the stupid peasants. If you can manage that, we'll talk. I'll find you something more interesting and important to do.'

'I was finding interesting things to do all by myself,' said Lex.

'Interesting things to do? Stuck in a laboratory? Lex, Lex, Lex. Luthors are warriors, wizards, business tycoons. Not lab technicians.'

'Lab technicians? Is that what you think I am? Dad, I was on to something… something great.'

'On something, you mean,' said Lionel. 'Sniffing too many of those chemicals in your lab. It's time you got out in the fresh air. Get some exercise. Have a little fun with the peasant girls. Some of them are pretty enough to be worth it. And why are you still standing here arguing? Go!'

'Sure, Dad,' said Lex. He saluted, with sarcastic elaboration. 'Thanks, Dad.'

 

****************

 

'I see you finally got up the courage to enlist,' said Whitney Fordham.

'My parents finally agreed to let me join the Home Guard,' Clark corrected him. 'They won't let me go to the Front, but we'll probably see some action here.'

'Action? I'll tell you what action you won't see. Lana is off limits. You got that?'

'Lana? I'm not after Lana,' said Clark.

'I've seen you watching her, tripping over your own feet every time she gets near. But she's mine, so keep your hands off.'

'Whitney?' It was Lana, calling to her boyfriend from the door to the men's barracks. She wore fatigues, with a nurse's insignia, and the green stone necklace that was her constant companion.

Clark started to get to his feet, but he felt that sudden loss of strength he often experienced in Lana's presence, and he sat back down again, rather quickly.

'There's a meeting at the school tonight,' Lana told them. 'Before the troops leave for the Front. Are you both coming?'

'I am, of course,' said Whitney.

'I want to go,' said Clark. 'But I have to get home and tell my parents where I'm based. They were worried I'd just run off for the Front. I'll see if I can make it back here in time.'

'You're looking pale, Clark. Are you alright?' asked Lana.

'I'm fine. Just need some fresh air, I guess.'

'Well, if you're not feeling better later, you should come round to the hospital. Have someone check you out. I have to go, they made me the messenger girl about this meeting, but I'll talk to you both later.'

'Lana will talk to me later -- and you can stay away from her,' said Whitney, after Lana left. 'You trying to win her sympathy, or just turning yellow?'

'Neither,' said Clark. 'I'm not after your girl, or any other girl. How much clearer can I make it?'

'You're telling me you're not interested in girls?' asked Whitney, his tone incredulous.

'Not that much,' said Clark. 'I like them, but I'm not chasing after them. I'm too busy right now.'

'I'll never be too busy for that. Maybe you just haven't met the right one.'

'Maybe,' said Clark. 'I like Lana. She's my friend. That's all.'

'That's never all,' said Whitney. 'But you try for anything more, and I'll kill you.'

 

*************

 

Sun Tzu said to know your enemy. Lionel Luthor thought his own son was his enemy. Sun Tzu said to treat your soldiers as you would your sons. Lionel Luthor treated his own son as lesser than his servants. Sun Tzu said….

'Sun Tzu has been dead for centuries, and Lionel Luthor is Lionel Luthor. We have better things to worry about.'

'Thanks,' said Lex to his internal critic. 'You're not telling me anything I don't already know.'

The little war exercise to which Lionel had condemned his son, was shaping up as a trap. How could Lex know his enemy? They never showed themselves. They never met him face to face in battle. They weren't warriors, they were spies, who crept about after dark, and blew up bridges, and stole trucks loaded with supplies.

Sun Tzu said to first put yourself into a position where you could not be defeated, and then look for a way to defeat your enemy. Lex had the superior troops and weaponry, so he was undefeatable from the start. But his enemy knew the land. It was theirs, and they wanted it back. There was no way Lex could defeat them, and the truth was, he didn't want to defeat them. They held the moral high ground. Stalemate.

Lionel had bought up this country piece by piece, and then put the squeeze on. He'd pretended to be a benevolent landlord, and turned into a tyrant and a despot. Lex had no sympathy for Lionel, now that the peasants had turned into guerrillas. All his sympathy was for the peasants. But it was useless to tell Lionel that. Lionel never listened to a word he said.

He could run away. He'd thought about it many times. But Lionel would just have him captured and brought back in chains. Lex was not the sort of person who could disappear into a crowd.

At least this part of the country had been pacified. Temporarily. Enough so that Lex could get away from the base for a drive, occasionally. It was foolish, everyone told him that. But if he spent all his time hanging around the base studying maps and troop movements he'd go crazy, and do something rash. Like call Lionel up on the phone and tell him what he really thought of him.

The countryside was very much as it had been in peacetime, except for the bomb craters, and the smell of blood and burning flesh. The armoured jeep he was driving didn't handle like his Porsche, or his Mercedes, but it could get up a good head of steam, if he pushed it to the floor. The cornfields whipped by outside the bombproof glass of the windows. They reminded him of… too much. Of fire that fell from heaven. Of the voices inside his head that had become too loud. Of everything that had happened since the meteors. His brother. His mother. Their graves. His father's hate….

Lex often wished he could drive fast enough to escape the demons in his own head. But he had never yet found a car could that could travel that fast.

There was a bridge up ahead. A truck coming the other way. The idea entered Lex's mind that he was too far from the base and should turn back. At that moment, the truck on the bridge swerved, blocking his path. Lex desperately spun the wheel of the jeep, trying to avoid hitting the truck. The bridge exploded under his wheels, fragments of the truck flew through the air in every direction, and Lex realized the truck was a moving bomb, and the bridge was blowing up under him and he swerved the jeep toward the bridge railing, since driving off the bridge was a better way to die. It was better to die under his own power, not being blown up by some idiotic suicidal peasant.

The truck crashed through the bridge railing. The river rose to meet him. He was under the water, his eyes filling with water, his lungs filling with water, his head roaring with the rushing sound of the water. And then hands were gripping him, pulling him out, lifting him up, up, up out of the water, high over the river. And then he was lying on the riverbank, looking up into the sky, into the sun. A mouth was pressed to his, forcing air into his lungs. He took a deep breath on his own, and then he opened his eyes and looked up, into a face, as bright and as beautiful as the sun.

'Good,' said the beautiful boy. 'You're alive. You're breathing.'

*******************

Clark was the boy's name. Lex was wearing Clark's jacket, sitting in the peaceful sun, watching the river flow by, carrying away all possibility of hope. Lex was in enemy hands, though his enemy seemed oblivious of that fact -- checking his eyes, asking Lex if he felt dizzy, behaving completely unlike the victor in this battle.

Lex sat on the riverbank in the peaceful sun, waiting until he felt less dizzy and until Clark's attention was diverted, waiting for his chance to jump up and escape. The jeep was at the bottom of the river, and his chances of actually escaping were rather slim. But he had to try. Giving up was not an option. Not for a Luthor

'Are you with the army?' Clark asked. 'The Luthors?'

'Um…' said Lex Luthor. He supposed he should reveal himself as a maniac general who went driving alone through enemy territory, except that he didn't want his nice friendly captor to turn vicious just yet.

'I'm sorry about what happened,' Clark went on. 'No one was supposed to get hurt. You came out of nowhere.'

'No need to apologise,' said Lex. 'My fault entirely. I was driving too fast. Your friend who was driving the truck? I guess he suffered the most.'

'Um… yes. I guess he did.' Clark seemed rather unconcerned about his friend and comrade who must be in little pieces at the bottom of the river. But then Lex supposed that had happened rather often the last few months, and Clark no longer noticed.

'Why… why were you out driving alone?' Clark asked suddenly. 'It's not safe, you know?'

'I didn't realise it was dangerous,' said Lex. 'I thought this area was pacified, by now.'

'We'll never be pacified,' said Clark, fiercely.

'I see,' said Lex. 'I wasn't intending any harm. I just wanted to feel free, you know?'

'Absent without leave?' asked Clark, with a grin. 'You'll be in trouble when you get back.'

'Oh, yes?' said Lex. 'About that, if you don't mind? I should be going. I have a long walk back.'

Clark grinned. He seemed entirely innocent of the fact that Lex was, officially, his prisoner, and Lex wondered if he could pull this off without too much trouble. He was getting to his feet, shrugging off Clark's jacket, when he heard them.

'Woohoo! We did it!'

'Clark? Hey! Who's that?'

'Hey, look. Clark's got a prisoner, I think. He's not one of us. He's dressed like a Luthor.'

'He is a Luthor, you fool,' said a tall, blond man. The man strode up to Lex, and hit him in the face. 'Sit down!' he ordered.

'Dad! What do you think you're doing?' Clark was on his feet, stepping between Lex and his attacker.

'Be quiet, Clark. This is a Luthor, all right. He's Lex Luthor. Lex Fucking Luthor! Lionel Luthor's son. We got ourselves a real prisoner here. We got ourselves a hostage. And we're going to make Lionel Luthor pay, if he ever wants to see his son alive again.'

 

*************************************************************************************

 

Chapter Three: Mother's Right  
*************************

'I like Lex Luthor!'

'Clark…'

'Don't, Dad. Just don't. I like him.'

'He's a Luthor,' said Jonathan Kent.

'Yeah, he is,' said Clark. 'Lex Luthor. Not Lionel Luthor.'

'What's the difference?'

'I don't believe you. What do you mean, what's the difference?'

'Clark, don't talk to your father that way,' said Martha, automatically.

'Lex Luthor is Lionel Luthor's son. That's the difference,' said Clark.

'Clark. Jonathan. I'm tired of listening to this argument,' said Martha. 'Please stop.'

'I'm tired of arguing, Mom. But you weren't there. Dad kept hitting Lex. He hit him and hit him. I'm not going to forget that.'

'Jonathan. Is that any way to behave?'

'I'm sorry, Martha. But he makes me so angry. He's Lionel Luthor's son, yes. He's also Lionel's general sent to kill us all.'

'It's war, Dad. We're rebelling. That's what generals do, when the peasants rebel.'

'You're defending him? Whose side are you on? What kind of traitor are you?'

'I'm not a traitor. I'm on our side. I'm just saying that I understand his side. I don't agree with it, but I understand it. We're rebelling. We've been blowing up his bridges, stealing his supplies, killing his men. Of course he's defending his interests. What do you expect him to do?'

'I expect him to give up and go home!'

'Oh, Dad. I thought I was the alien from another world.'

'Well, now he's our prisoner, so he'll have to give in.'

'Will he? What do you think is going to happen now?'

'We're sending a message to his troops, and to Lionel Luthor. Lex Luthor is our hostage. They'll have to listen to us.'

'And do what? You think Lionel will make peace and keep his word? Lex could die. Or he could escape, and then we'd have no hostage. We'd have a real sworn enemy. Someone who hates us because of how we treated him. Or we can make peace, and release Lex, and Lionel can go back on his word. We'll be even worse off then, because he'll hate us for forcing his hand.'

'And what do you suggest we do? Since you're so wise.'

'I saved Lex's life. I was making friends with him, when you interrupted us.'

'So you did know who he was?'

'No. I had no idea who he was. We were talking. He knew I'd blown up the bridge, and nearly killed him, and he was polite about it. He was politely suggesting I let him go free. I was going to politely suggest walking part of the way back with him, and telling him why we were rebelling.'

'And what good do you think that would have done?'

'More good than holding him hostage. I don't think Lex was our enemy when he came here, but you're helping to turn him into one. He's really smart, Dad. He's not some butcher. How many of us has he killed? Not many. We've killed more of his men.'

'Of course he's a butcher. He's a Luthor.'

'He's a Luthor because his father is Lionel Luthor. Did he have a mother? Most people do. What about her?'

'His mother was Lillian Savage,' said Martha, speaking for the first time in some minutes.

'Lillian Savage? Savage? Aren't they….'

'Yes, Jonathan. They're distant cousins of mine. Not close, but cousins.'

'Cousins?' said Clark, rather excited, for some reason. 'Mom, we're related, then. Well, sort of. I mean, I know I'm adopted, but….'

'Lex is related to my family, yes. Lillian's own family all died in some tragedy, years back. A fire, I think. Her lands are run by a bailiff now.'

'For Lex's daughter, when he has one?' asked Clark.

'If he has one,' said Martha. 'But that's all academic. I mean, with the situation the way it is.'

'Mom, listen. That's the answer, don't you see? We're related. He's one of us. His mother's lands are right there, waiting for him.'

'Oh, no, no. No, Clark.'

'Dad! Dad, listen to me. It's the answer. Much better than all this killing. He'll be on our side, then.'

'A Luthor? On our side? Never. All any Luthor thinks about is himself.'

 

****************

'Lex.'

Lex tried to burrow deeper into the covers, but strangely, the covers slithered away, and he couldn't block out the voice.

'Lex.'

'Go away, Dad,' he said.

'Alexandros.'

That last syllable did it. That and the fact that his father would have dragged him out of bed by now, and slapped him around a bit to wake him up.

Lex sat up warily, and tried to look around, but the room was dark. The room was cold, and damp, and he wasn't lying on a bed, but on the bare ground. He wasn't at home in his own bed after all.

'You really are a genius, aren't you?' asked the voice in his head.

'I'm sure, that in my situation, you would have worked it out much faster.'

'I wouldn't be in your situation,to start with,' the voice answered.

'No, because you had the whole Macedonian army to protect you,' Lex snapped.

'You had an army to protect you, but you went off alone.'

'Whereas you would have slunk around behind your bodyguards, where you felt safe? Sure you would.'

There was a long, poignant silence. Then, the voice spoke, more gently than it ever had before.

'Child,' it said.

'I'm not a child,' said Lex.

'You are to me,' said the voice. 'I'm over two thousand years old.'

'You mean you've been dead for over two thousand years,' said Lex.

'Dead,' said Alexander. 'Dead, but not forgotten.'

'I've tried to forget you, but you keep coming back and reminding me.'

'We got off to a bad start,' Alexander admitted.

'You tried to take over my body,' said Lex.

'I didn't know it was your body,' said Alexander. 'I thought it was mine.'

'Well, now you know it's mine. So please go away.'

'I can't. I've tried. But I'm part of you, forever. Until you die, anyway. We have to get along.'

'No,' said Lex. 'We don't. I don't want to be you, and you don't want to be me. You despise me.'

'I don't despise you.'

'Of course you despise me,' said Lex. 'Everyone does.'

'And why is that?' asked Alexander, after another long silence.

'I don't know,' Lex admitted. 'They don't trust me. No one ever has. No matter what I do. No matter how hard I try….'

Again, the long silence.

'It's because of me,' said Alexander, at last. 'They sense my presence. They sense that something is different, wrong about you. That you're two people.'

'I'm not two people,' said Lex. 'I'm me. I'm myself. You… you're a parasite.'

'Alexander the Parasite,' said Alexander. 'Not what I'd pictured for myself, in my megalomania.'

'Why are you saying these things?' Lex asked. 'Are you trying to get in good with me? Make friends, or something?'

'Why not?' asked Alexander. 'We're stuck with each other. Why not make friends? If we learn to get along…'

'Oh, no!' Lex shouted out loud. 'We're not making friends, got it? I'm not getting along with you, not now, not ever. I'm not going to be you!'

'Shut up in there!' One of the guards pounded on the door. 'Shut up, or I'll shut you up.'

But Lex couldn't seem to stop, once he started. 'I'm not going to be you!' he went on screaming.

The door slammed open. The guard pulled him up off the floor, and started hitting him. Lex screamed back defiance, threatening the guards, the entire population of Kansas, and Alexander himself, with every bloody reprisal he could think of.

Outside the shed, another hurricane was blowing. It blew through the farmyard, knocked down walls, tossed guards aside like wood chips. It picked Lex up like a doll, tore his bonds asunder, and carried him off, into the night.

************

 

Lex opened his eyes cautiously. It was still dark. He stretched out his hand, and touched damp earth. Not again, he thought. But the air was fresher than it had been in the shed. Where was he?

'Lex? You awake?'

'Yes,' he answered. 'I think so. Who are you?'

'Clark. Clark Kent. I… kidnapped you.'

'I see, Clark Kent. You kidnapped me. And why, exactly, did you do this? Your father wants a few more kicks at my balls?'

A long moment of silence. Lex sat up, and looked around. Clark had set up a small camp. There was a sleeping bag. A lantern. A backpack leaning against a rock. Clark's face was deep in shadow, and Lex couldn't see his expression, but he seemed disturbed.

'I'm sorry about that,' said Clark, at last. 'But no, he's not here. He doesn't even know about this, that I've actually done it, I mean. Not yet. I'm… well, I'm liberating you, to tell the truth.'

'Liberating me? Letting a prisoner escape, you mean? Isn't that treason, Clark Kent?'

'Yes, well. It's a long story. Here, let me help you sit up. We're out in a field… somewhere. No farms around. Near a stream. You can wash up when it gets light. I brought a change of clothes. Those things you're wearing are all ripped and bloody. And here. Have some coffee. It's hot. I brought a big thermos of it.'

It was hot, and very welcome. But Clark's arm was welcome, too, helping him to sit up.

'I'm not exactly letting a prisoner escape,' Clark explained.

'It looks like it to me,' said Lex. 'Not that I'm complaining.'

'Things aren't always what they look like,' said Clark. 'Did you know we were related?'

Lex almost spit out his coffee. 'No?' he said. 'Related? Us?'

'In a way. Your mother was Lillian Savage.'

'She was. How did you know that?'

'Your mother was my mother's cousin. Distant cousin, but still cousin. That makes us cousins.'

'I see,' said Lex.

'You probably don't see at all,' Clark allowed. 'Or by now you'd be way ahead of me.'

'You're saying that you owe me your help because we're related?'

'Yes, but more than that. Your mother was Lillian Savage. She held the lands that way, off toward Metropolis. Savage Valley. She died, without leaving a daughter to inherit. But she had a son. You. That means, according to our laws, that her lands are yours, to hold for your daughter, or other female heir.'

'Yes? And?'

'And we are going to claim them. You and I. You as the Regent. Me as your Champion. And then, our people will make peace with you, and accept you as one of us. You can challenge everyone for Governor of our state. That will end the war. Do you see now? I'm not a traitor. I'm trying to bring peace to my people.'

Lex stared. For the first time in many years, he was speechless.

 

**************************************************************************************

 

Chapter Four: Challenge  
*********************

'I can run really fast,' Clark explained.

'I can tell,' said Lex.

'I'm very strong. I can pick up the tractor at our farm. You could shoot me, and I'd bruise badly, but that's about it. I can see for miles. Oh, and I shoot fire from my eyes. I wish I could control that, but mostly it happens when… well, when I get excited.'

Clark whispered this last piece of information, as if it were embarrassing. Perhaps it was, now that Lex thought about it. Imagine kissing someone, having warm, exciting thoughts about him or her, and then sending your loved one up in flames.

'My parents tell me they found me in a Necromancer War. That I'm a Wizard's Child.'

'A simulacrum?' asked Lex. He smiled at Clark's bewildered expression. 'A Wizard's Child is a simulacrum. A construct of the wizard's mind, created to carry out his spells in a place where he cannot be in person. You can't be a Wizard's Child.'

'Why not?'

'When did this supposed war happen?'

'Ten years ago.'

'And you're still alive? No. You would have lived long enough to cast the spell, and then died. Disappeared. Like a thought. As if you had never been.'

'Then what am I? I appeared out of nowhere, during the meteor shower…'

'The meteor shower? I remember that.'

'I came with the meteors, my parents told me. I didn't speak for a long time, but I had strange powers. What else could I be, but a… one of those simulacrums?'

'If you are, you're a new improved model,' said Lex. 'And why hasn't your master shown up to check on you?'

'I don't know,' said Clark. 'I don't know a single spell. I have no memory of my master. Perhaps I'm not an improved model. Perhaps I'm damaged in some way, and he's forgotten about me.'

'I know plenty of spells,' Lex told him. 'I have books of them back at the base. They're all useless for us right now. Purifying water. Turning water into wine. Turning lead into gold. Making plants grow faster.'

'Lex! You think that's useless?'

'It is at the moment. I'm an alchemist, not a battle wizard, like my father. Like my father was, I mean.' Lex lowered his voice. 'Don't tell anyone. Keep what I'm about to tell you a deep, dark secret, since we're related.'

'I promise,' said Clark, intrigued.

'He lost most of his power in the meteor shower,' Lex went on. 'Not all of it, and he can hide the lapses, because he's so clever. But he depends on me too much. It's why he's angry that… Never mind. The thing is, we need an army.'

'You have me,' said Clark, with adolescent pride.

'Yes. But you don't want to reveal your powers. If you're not a true wizard, if you don't have spells backing your powers up, you would be vulnerable to an attack from a necromancer with far less power, but a good book of spells.'

'That's how it works?' Clark asked.

'That's how it works,' said Lex. 'Knowledge. It beats out brute strength every time. My father lost most of his power, but he hides it well, like I said. We need a battle wizard. We need an army.'

'You have me,' said the voice in Lex's head.

'I don't want to use you,' Lex responded. It seemed out loud, because Clark looked confused.

'Sorry,' said Lex. 'I'm not talking to you, Clark.'

'You have an invisible friend?' asked Clark, with a grin. 'I used to have one of those.'

'That's about the size of it,' said Lex. 'I'm an alchemist, remember? We're all strange.'

'You're stranger than most,' his "invisible friend" told him. 'Why don't you want to use me? I'm the greatest general that ever lived.'

'What good is a general without an army?' asked Lex.

'Cadmus,' said Alexander.

'Cadmus?' Lex stared, off into the middle distance for a long moment. 'Cadmus was the man who founded the city of Thebes, in ancient Greece. He raised an army by sowing dragon's teeth. He was an alchemist, of course, and so am I. But even an alchemist needs something to work with.'

'Dragon's teeth?' said Clark. 'There have been no dragons around here for many years.'

'Many hundreds of years,' said Lex.

'No, not that long. There was a nest of them up by the Old Mill, Mom tells me. They died out before she was born, but her mother used to tell the tale.'

'You think they had teeth?' asked Lex.

'All dragons have teeth,' Clark told him.

 

**********************

 

The dragon had teeth.

The Old Mill was a ruin of stone and rotting wood. Around it lay the bones -- and teeth -- of a dragon.

Lex knelt by the side of the huge skeleton.

'They had it in chains, Clark,' he mourned.

Clark touched his shoulder. Clark's face was sad, but unsurprised.

'They had it in chains,' Lex repeated. 'It was old, very old. Look! The bones are warped. It died in chains.'

'It happened years ago,' said Clark. Clark was still very young. Whatever happened before he was born was ancient history.

'Why was it in chains? Oh. I see. It was a draught animal. It turned the mill, to grind the corn. A dragon. Used like an ox.'

'We have electricity now,' said Clark, brightly.

The world was now a better and kindlier place, saved by electricity.

'Yes,' said Lex. 'Electricity.'

He pulled the chains away from the dragon bones. Clark sighed, but after a moment, he helped. When the ancient bones were no longer in bondage, they looked around for the dragon's teeth.

Teeth were scattered all around the skull, as though the head had exploded when the dragon died. Perhaps it had, thought Lex. Who knew what happened when a dragon died?

The teeth were very large. The smallest was a foot long. They were worn, and yellow. In some cases the teeth were broken, and the enamel was cracked.

'Where should we sow them?' Clark asked.

'Close by, if you want my opinion,' said Lex. 'They're too numerous, and too heavy to carry far. But I don't know what's going to happen, if I can even manage to do the spell properly. When Cadmus sowed his teeth, most of the warriors killed each other in combat. We don't want that.' Lex thought for a moment. Then, 'I know where I want to sow my warriors,' he said.

 

**************************************************************************************

 

Chapter Five: Dragon's Teeth  
************************

The cornstalks were shorter than they had been all those years ago…. but no, it was that Lex was taller. He knew this, logically, in his mind, but in his heart, he knew the corn had shrunk, and that was all to the good.

The scarecrow wore a bright red jacket, and a crow sat upon its shoulder, pecking at one of the buttons sarcastically. Lex smiled. It was wise not to be afraid of men made of straw.

'Let's do this,' said Lex. 'There are eighty teeth….'

'Yes,' said Clark. 'Dragons have eighty teeth, my mother told me.'

'That will give us a Century, if all goes well. I'm the general, and I'm naming you Centurion.'

'Thanks, Lex,' said Clark.

'Don't thank me,' Lex replied, ignoring Clark's sarcastic tone. 'When Cadmus sowed his dragon's teeth, the warriors fell upon each other, and fought to the death until only five were left. My first command to you, is to prevent that from happening. We need every warrior we can get.'

'Yes, my General,' said Clark.

Lex raised an eyebrow, not quite ignoring this instance of sarcasm, but Clark grinned back at him, and Lex couldn't help but smile. 'Here,' he said, handing him a tooth. 'Start sowing your warriors. Let's space them well apart, in phalanxes. These are soldiers, not guerrillas, like your friends. I cast my spell. We have Earth, and Air. We need Water, and Fire.'

'There are hoses to water the fields. We could turn them on. As for the fire… I could try….'

'Clark. I have matches. The corn stalks are dry, and they'll burn easily. Then, we'll put out the fire, and hope.'

'Hope. And pray?' asked Clark.

'Yes, let us pray,' said Lex.

 

************

 

'How long will this take?' asked Clark, eyeing the horizon with a worried expression. The smoke from the fire had died down, but he still expected a distressed farmer to show up at any moment.

'Patience, Grasshopper,' said Lex.

'Don't say that word in farming country.'

'Don't say what? Patience? Doesn't farming require patience?'

'Grasshopper, moron. Don't say grasshopper.'

'Grasshopper, grasshopper, grasshopper….'

'Do you always do that, Lex? Say what you're told not to say?'

'Yes. And I do, and think, and feel what I'm told not to. I was born this way. I can't ever…

'Lex, look. What's that? Something rising up from the earth, taller than the corn.'

'Are they armed? They should be armed. The stories say they should be armed.'

'I don't… Yes! Armed, and armoured. But I don't know how much use their arms will be. Those are spears and swords.'

'A bit outdated, I'll admit. But you'd be surprised how dangerous swords can be.'

'Yes… and uh, Lex. They're not men. They're women. Women warriors.'

'Amazons,' Lex breathed out. 'It must have been a female dragon. I felt something… something female, when I cast the spell. I felt the power of the Goddess.'

There were eighty of them. Tall, regal, dressed in scaled armour, scales like dragon scales, armed with swords not made of steel. Made of dragon bone, perhaps?

They did not fall upon each other, and fight to the death. They stalked toward Lex, offering the hilts of their swords to him.

'Father!' said the tall blonde in front. She held out her sword, and Lex touched the hilt. The seventy-nine amazons behind her nodded, in unison. 'Our mother was in chains, and you freed her. We are her daughters. You have set us free. We are your daughters. What shall we do now?'

'My mother,' said Lex. 'Her name was Lillian. Lillian Savage. She lived in Savage Valley.'

'Savage Valley,' said the Amazon leader. 'Our mother came from Savage Valley. Dragons lived there, for many ages. Our mother was the last, and she was old, and she was brought here in chains. You freed her.'

'Yes,' said Lex. 'We should go and reclaim our mothers' lands. My mother was held in chains as well, until she died. I am the last of her line, and you are my daughters. Together we will claim our heritage, and hold it.'

'Is there treasure?' asked the smallest of the Amazons. Her skin was dark ivory, and her hair was red. Red as the colour of blood.

'Treasure? There may be treasure. Hidden treasure, perhaps. Let us go and see.'

'Yes, we should go,' said Clark. 'My mother and father know what I was planning. I don't think they'll have told anyone else yet. Probably they're trying to find us on their own, but we can't count on it.'

'They'll head for Savage Valley?' asked Lex.

'At first, yes. Mom has relatives there. They might raise a posse.'

'A posse? A posse to hunt me down! How quaint.'

'To hunt us down,' Clark pointed out. 'We're lucky we've avoided them so far -- but it's not really luck. No one expected us to be here. That smoke a few minutes ago might have tipped them off, though.'

'Yes,' said Lex. 'Let's get moving. You can run much faster than normal humans, but what about your Century?'

'We are daughters of a dragon, Father,' said the Amazon leader. 'We can run fast. We should be able to fly, too, but that takes time to learn.'

'We're new,' said the smallest Amazon. 'We need time to practice our skills.'

'There is no time,' said Lex. 'They're hunting us, I can feel it.'

'You're right,' said Clark. 'I can hear many footsteps, coming up the road.'

'Peasants with pitchforks.'

Clark smiled, with truly insane cheerfulness. 'How did you know?' he asked.

'Old horror movies are truly educational. Some of them have semi-automatic weapons, too. Am I right?'

Clark's grin disappeared. He didn't ask how Lex knew. 'Let's get moving,' he said.

 

******************

 

The Valley of the Savages looked much like every other valley Lex had seen in this vicinity, and he said as much to Clark. 'Savage Valley?' he said. 'It looks pretty peaceful to me.'

'Have you ever been here?' asked Clark. He set Lex down, gently. He told himself he was out of breath from the long run, which was true enough. But not the whole truth.

'Dad wanted me to have as little influence as possible from my mother's side of the family,' said Lex.

Clark supposed that was a no. 'There's savagery here,' he said. 'It just doesn't show on the outside. The people. They're necromancers. Witches. Many of them, anyway. My mother….'

'Your mother is a witch?' Lex sounded fascinated.

'No. That's just it. It's why she left. Her powers are minimal. She was a great disappointment to her family. Then she married a farmer, and that settled it. She brought me here once, to show her father, but he wouldn't really look at me. I don't even have red hair.'

'My mother was a witch,' said Lex. After a long, silent moment he added, 'My father stole her powers, to feed his own, before I was born.' Another long moment.

Then, 'These are her lands?'

'I checked a map before I left home,' said Clark. 'From the river, see? To the road that leads to town. There, out to the hills. The lands border on the neighbouring fields on the last side. There should be a fence… yes. A fence right there. These are your lands.'

'Our lands,' said Lex. 'Yours. Mine. The Amazon Warriors' lands. Our lands.'

Clark smiled. He felt a warmth he'd never known before. A feeling of belonging, of being completely accepted. It was an addictive feeling, and his father might have called it dangerous. His mother, too, perhaps, considering who Lex Luthor was.

Clark knew his parents loved him, but did they really accept him as himself, or did they wish he were normal? Not that it mattered if they did wish he were normal. They still loved him, and Clark himself had often wished he were like other children. But today, with Lex, and yesterday at the river, with Lex, there was something new and different. A feeling of belonging, but more. Lex looked at him with love, when he revealed his powers. Not with fear, not with reproach. With admiration.

Clark had wrapped Lex in his arms, and sped off toward the valley, the Amazons following. Lex had gasped, once, with astonishment, and then he had smiled up at Clark, and murmured something about the gods, and divine justice, and that was all. No lectures about who might have seen them. Clark felt free for the first time in his life.

'What do we do now?' asked Lex. And Clark realized Lex really cared about his opinion.

'We should announce ourselves,' Clark suggested. 'Announce our intentions.'

'You have a loud voice,' said Lex. 'Announce us.'

*****************

'Alexander Luthor announces he is here to claim Mother's Right to these lands. If anyone should have objections, let him speak now, or forever hold his peace. Alexander Luthor announces he is here to claim Mother's Right to these lands….'

Clark had been shouting for some time, and the novelty had worn off. So far, no one had taken him up on his invitation to object. People leaned out of windows, stood in doorways or on street corners. They stared, and pointed. But no one blocked their path… but there. Someone was finally blocking their path, and Clark smiled a sincere welcome.

'Clark Kent, I presume?' asked the man.

'Yes. My name is Clark Kent. My mother is Martha Kent, the daughter of William Clark, and Roxanne Wilde. Her cousin was Lillian Savage, and she married Lionel Luthor. Alexander Luthor is her son, and he claims these lands….'

'By Mother's Right. Yes. We heard you.'

'And someone has answered us at last,' said Lex. 'You have objections to my objectives, Dominic Santorini?'

'I do,' said Dominic. 'Your objectives are horse shit. You have no claim to this estate. It belongs to your father, Lionel Luthor, and he put me in charge, as his steward.'

'And instructed you to bar my way,' said Lex, his voice smooth as cream.

'No,' the man admitted. 'But I obey him, and only him. I am here by his orders, and I can't abandon my post.'

'Your objections are noted and logged,' said Lex. 'You have done your duty. Step out of my way.'

'You're not listening, Lex….'

'No, I'm not,' said Lex. 'Move. Now!'

Dominic moved, but toward Lex, as if to restrain him. Clark grabbed him by the shoulders, and tossed him aside as if he were a rag doll. He lay still for a moment, then sat up, looking mystified that a mere boy could have conquered him so easily. But Clark wasn't paying attention to his defeated foe, he was watching Lex.

'If there are no further objections,' Lex began.

'I have an objection.' A new voice, but a familiar one. 'What do you think you're doing, Clark?'

Jonathan and Martha Kent stood by the side of the road, their faces pale and shocked.

'What I said I would do. Mom, Dad, this is important. You'll see that eventually. Please don't interfere.'

'Clark, we can't let you do this. You don't know what you're getting into.'

'Yes, I do. Mom. I know,' Clark stepped closer, and lowered his voice. 'I know now why I was born. Why I came here. It's to make peace, to fight for justice, to make a better world.'

'You're deluded,' said Jonathan. 'Luthor has warped your mind.'

'This was all my idea, Dad. Not Lex's. I wish you'd trust me. I wish you'd listen to me.'

'You're a child,' said Jonathan. He bent down and picked up the shotgun he placed upon the ground. 'Step aside,' he ordered.

'No.'

'Do as you're told,' his father ordered, again.

'Not if you're going to try to shoot someone,' said Clark. 'You'll have to shoot me first.'

At a signal from Lex, Mercy stepped forward. 'I will not permit any violence to my father,' she announced. 'You must put your weapons away. You must challenge my father's Champion in a fair contest. That is the Tradition.'

'Your… your father?' asked Martha.

'Alexander Luthor raised us from the skeleton of our mother. We are the Daughters of the Dragon. He is our father. We will die for him.'

The other Amazons raised their swords in unison, and rattled their shields. The clamour echoed down the valley.

'These lands are our mother's lands, and his mother's lands, and his lands, and our lands. We are the Daughters of the Dragon.'

'The Daughters of the Dragon!' shouted all the Amazons.

'Jonathan. Step aside,' said Martha. Her voice was steel -- sheathed in velvet, and coated in more steel.

Jonathan stepped aside, but his eyes were cold as they watched Lex.

Jonathan stepped aside, but someone else took his place to bar their way. She was old, and blind, and leaning on a cane.

'Cassandra?' asked Clark. 'What are you doing here?'

She gazed at him with her blind eyes.

'Fire from heaven,' she said. 'The dragon wakes. And the world changes.'

'I brought fire from heaven,' said Clark, softly. 'Lex woke the dragon… well, he woke her daughters. But we are only two people. Can two people change the world?'

Lex shifted restlessly beside him, looking off into the distance.

'You are a Wizard's Child,' Cassandra continued. 'Or you are the child of wizards. I'm not sure which. Choose one. Does it make a difference to you?'

''If I am a Wizard's Child,' said Clark. 'I will die when I fulfil my destiny.'

'And what is your destiny?' asked Cassandra. 'And is it worth dying for?'

'I don't know,' said Clark. 'If I am a Wizard's Child, the wizard didn't tell me my destiny. I never even knew him. I have to make my own destiny.'

'Perhaps your destiny is to change the world,' said Cassandra. 'But be careful. Be careful how you change it, and why. Once you open that door, it cannot be closed again.'

Lex brushed by Clark. His fingers touched Clark's shoulder as he passed. A shiver of anticipation raced down Clark's spine. Ghostly images of bodies merging filled his mind.

'Cassandra? That is your name?' asked Lex.

'Yes.' For the first time ever, Cassandra sounded more than a little uncertain. 'You… you are Lex Luthor.'

'Alexander,' said Lex, firmly. 'I am Alexander. You are Cassandra, named after the prophet, the daughter of Priam and Hecuba.'

'I am,' Cassandra allowed.

'I believe in oracles, and I am not denying your predictions. But the world is always changing, whether we will it or not. What sort of door should remain forever closed? Is that safety, or a prison?'

'You ask piercing questions, Alexander. There are closed doors behind your own eyes, do you know that?'

'Yes, but not by my choice.'

'Ah. Eyes are to be seen through. Doors are to be walked through. Two should be as one. Those are my answers.'

'Tell that to the other one. The one who denies his own nature.'

Clark reached out and touched Lex's shoulder, as Lex had touched his. Lex seemed… different somehow. Altered. Clark knew that people could become strangers, even people you knew well, even your own parents. But when it came to Lex, it disturbed him more than usual. 'Lex?' he asked, tentatively.

Lex turned. His eyes blazed with power. They focused on Clark's face, and then softened. 'Clark,' he said, as if stating a fact. Clark now existed, by decree. 'If no one else challenges us, have we claimed Mother's Right?'

'I think so. And without violence.'

'Not much violence, so far. Though my father will know about this soon enough, and then who knows? Your parents don't approve, and the Future is ambivalent. So this campaign has not been without its dangers, but my mother's lands belong to us. All is well that ends well. Where do we sleep tonight, by the way? Is there a house, or do we camp in the fields?'

'There's a house,' said Clark. 'On the hill overlooking the valley.'

Lex looked in the direction Clark was pointing. 'That's not a house,' he said, after a moment. 'That's a castle.'

'It's the largest house around. It must be ours.'

No one challenged them as they moved up the long, curving driveway. The monstrosity loomed ahead, looking entirely out of place in a Kansas landscape.

'I know what this is,' said Lex, after a long, contemplative silence. 'I thought Dad was joking. Many years ago, he told me he was going to transplant the family castle over here, brick by brick. He never spoke of it again, but he must have done it. Why here? Was he making a statement? Laying claim to my mother's lands?'

Lex didn't really seem to want or expect an answer, so Clark said nothing.

The castle servants were waiting, lined up before the doors. They may have been warned by Dominic Santorini. A very imposing-looking elderly gentleman stepped forward.

'I am Lionel Luthor's major-domo,' he said.

'Well,' said Lex. 'Now you are my major-domo, if I am pleased with your service.'

'I am afraid not,' said the major-domo. 'I am Lionel Luthor's man, and no other's.'

'Fine,' said Lex. 'Please leave the house by sunset.' He looked around at the waiting servants. 'You!' he said to a manservant at the back of the crowd.

The man looked quiet and retiring, but steady. He stepped forward, looking Lex straight in the eye. 'Sir?' said the man.

'What is your name?' asked Lex.

'John Savage, Sir.'

'A distant cousin, I presume? Never mind. If you please, you are my new major-domo. I suppose you know your new duties. If not, improvise. I need rooms for myself and my friends. Clean clothes. Dinner. Directions for finding my way around this pile. Means to communicate with my troops back at Smallville. Something to read….'

Lex's voice faded out as he mounted the staircase, his bemused new major-domo following a step or two behind.

************

'I know this room,' said Lex. 'But how can that be? I've never been in this house before today.'

'This is the War Room, Sir,' said John Savage. 'That's what everyone calls it. What Mr. Luthor… I mean, your father….'

'Mr. Luthor will do, Mr. Savage, as a name for him. I am Lex Luthor. Call me Lex.'

'I… that wouldn't exactly be….'

'Call me Lex,' said Lex, more firmly. 'It's appropriate if I say it is.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Go on about the War Room, Mr. Savage, please.'

'Mr. Luthor called it the War Room. He says his forebears plotted invasions and so on from here. I don't know about the truth of that.'

'Oh, it's true enough,' said Lex. 'My forebears were savages.' He grinned. 'Maybe that's why Dad chose your relation for his wife, and my mother. But I wonder why this room is so familiar.'

'You were Named in this room. When you were a baby. The house was still in Scotland, then.'

How would you know that, Lex thought to his inner tormentor.

'Thank you for the tour, Mr. Savage,' he told his major-domo. 'Please see that my friend, Clark Kent, is suitably taken care of. And my troops, as well. I'll speak to you again later.'

The major-domo bowed himself out of the room, and Lex was left alone with the weapons of his forebears, and the voice of his parasite.

'You took me over,' he said out loud. 'You took over my body, to speak to that woman Cassandra. Don't do it again.'

'She's an interesting woman,' said Alexander. 'I wanted to have a word with her. I'm tired of filtering my opinions through you.'

'That's too bad,' said Lex. 'I'm tired of listening to your opinions completely unfiltered, but what choice do I have?'

'You admit it! You admit you have no choice. Good. Here's another one. That sweet-faced boy, Clark Kent. What a beauty. And he'd be willing, I can tell.'

'You're a lech,' said Lex.

'A lech? Lecherous! I'm lecherous! I?' Alexander's outraged voice raged in his mind. 'I am no lecher, and I never was. I put up with your lecherous behaviour for years, while you ran after everything on two legs, and I suppose you expected me to be grateful you reserved yourself to creatures on two legs and didn't expand your attentions to creatures that ran on four? And they cared for you even less than you cared about them. You complain that no one loves you, but what do you do to change that? You waste your energy on fucking people you wouldn't give the time of day to in your business life. You're a warrior, a general, you should be noble…'

'I try!' Lex shouted.

'You try to be noble? What use is trying? Be what you want to be.'

'What I want to be? I don't want to be you. I don't….'

'Lex? Lex, what's wrong?'

Clark stood in the open doorway to the War Room. He looked confused, and a little uncertain, but brave enough and ready enough to deal with any insanity.

'I'm sorry, Clark. I was just talking to myself.'

'To your invisible friend, you mean?' asked Clark with a smile. 'I've been looking for you. Your butler, John Savage.…'

'My major-domo, you mean. He ranks above my butler.'

'John called this the War Room. I thought he was joking, but I guess he was right. Look at all these weapons. And what's this?' Clark indicated the long table that ran along the wall under the bay windows.

'A conference table, upon which to plot our next invasion,' said Lex.

'Our next invasion? Lex, I hope you're joking.'

'For now,' said Lex. 'I need to run for Governor first.'

'And then?'

'And then, we challenge Rome,' said Lex, mildly.

'Rome? Rome! What sort of crazy plan is that?'

'I know. It is crazy, isn't it? It will draw a lot of dangerous attention to us. All of Rome's might will fall upon us….'

'If you think you're frightening me, child, you are mistaken.'

'No, I'm not frightening you, not even trying. But it's what you want, isn't it? To rule the world again?' Lex caught sight of Clark's face. The boy looked frightened for the first time. 'Am I going out of my mind? No, Clark. I've always been out of my mind. I've always shared my mind with someone else. You should know this. Listen. No one else knows, only my father, because he did it to me. He's a wizard, remember? A necromancer, to be precise. He summoned a spirit, and, and installed it inside of me. I've been living with the consequences ever since.'

'Can't you get rid of it?' asked Clark. 'The spirit, I mean?'

'It would seem not,' said Lex. 'He's been there all my life, from my conception.'

'He's this invisible friend you told me about.'

'He's not really a friend, Clark.'

'I could be your friend,' said Alexander. 'If you tried.'

'And what would you want in return? Nation after nation capitulated to you, and it wasn't enough.'

'I loved many people, and was loved in return,' said Alexander. 'You do not let yourself be loved. Why? What do you fear?'

'Who could ever love me? What legacy could I offer them? Madness. Murder. War. And it's not true that I don't want love. But I have to be honest with anyone from the start. I can't pretend to be someone I'm not. But when I even hint at the truth, they always run in the opposite direction. The ones who aren't lying and after my money, I mean.'

'I'm not after your money, Lex,' said Clark.

'Aren't you? Then you're a fool. What else do I have to offer? And all your friends will warn you that I'm dangerous.'

'I'm dangerous too,' said the sweet-faced boy. 'I'm a Wizard's Child, and I could die after fulfilling my destiny, remember? What do I have to offer you? But I'll take the chance.'

Clark was standing close, very close. He bent his head, and their lips touched.

'They said of me that I was never defeated, except by Hephaistion's thighs,' said Alexander, but the heat from Clark's body burned like a hundred suns, and they were both consumed.

 

***The End***


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